


Under the Table Business

by undergarten



Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, Cock Worship, Deepthroating, Fantasy, Half-Elf, Half-Elves, Large Cock, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Beta Read, Orc, Orcs, Scent Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Service Submission, Sort Of, Submission, Taverns, Teratophilia, Trans Male Character, Under-Desk Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:41:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22193455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undergarten/pseuds/undergarten
Summary: An orc uses his half-elf boyfriend's throat as a cockwarmer while he takes a load off in a tavern. Maybe multiple loads.
Relationships: Half-Elf/Orc, Orc/Half-Elf, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 260





	Under the Table Business

**Author's Note:**

> Half-Elf character is submissive in this story (cliche, I know, sorry) and is a transgender male. I use a few words for his genitalia that might be dysphoria-inducing for some, so please be wary.

“Artis.”

Hearing his name, a young half-elf starts, perking up from his slouched position. His short curls bob slightly with his rapid movement, framing his delicate facial features, thankfully unmarred by his pouting. 

“Yes, Mogrihm?” he asks, eager for attention from his Orcish companion. Sitting next to him in the tavern all day without much more acknowledgement than a few grunts, Artis had started to grow despondent, and then just downright bored. Now, he sits with his hands poised on the surface of their table, ready to spring up and run any errand required of him - even if just for the chance to escape the darked back corner of the establishment. 

In lieu of a response, Mogrihm wraps a muscular arm around Artis’ waist and pulls him closer, fitting him snugly into his side. Artis, grinning, opens his mouth to make some quppy remark, but is quickly silenced by Mogrihm’s mouth locking with his own. All Artis can muster is a little _mmh!_ in response, melting in the orc’s grasp, the blood from his brain leaving him dizzy as it fills his cheeks and trickles southward. Mogrhim pulls away a moment later, leaving Artis to recover from the sudden display of affection.

“Mog-,” Artis starts, only to be interrupted.

“Hush.” Says Mogrihm. The orc gestures downward, and Artis watches with rosy cheeks as he spreads his legs wide under the table, creating a space just wide enough to fit a certain half-elf. 

The half-elf in question can feel his face suddenly burn with embarrassment, and he looks up to his orc, expecting to be teased for jumping to dirty conclusions. Except, while there is amusement on Mogrihm’s face, Artis understands very quickly that he is not joking. He whines, giving a nervous glance around the dining room, but knows better than to argue. 

The underside of the table is surprisingly dark, Artis notes as he slots himself between Mogrihm’s legs, and wishes for the shadows to keep him hidden from wandering eyes. Mogrihm’s hands descend to release the ties holding his trousers shut, exuding such a casual air that it nearly tricks Artis into relaxing. The orc’s musk becomes so suddenly overpowering that Artis reaches out to steady himself on Mogrihm’s thighs, his tight grip leaving only the barest of imprints in the muscle. 

“Oh, _hells_ ,” Artis mutters, Mogrihm’s pure scent threatening to overpower him. “This is ridiculous, he’s not even _hard_ yet.” His knees shift against the floorboards, attempting to find a comfortable position - a feat, with his clit twitching in his smallclothes, urging him to squirm. Mogrihm, unforgiving of Artis’ hesitation, rests a heavy hand on the half-elf’s head. His firm grip pulls Artis into his lap, leaving him no choice but to draw in every last pheromone, face pressed against the outline of his soft cock. 

Artis can’t help himself. He’s gone - panting and mewling under Mogrith’s hand, dizzied by his musk. All he can do, all he _wants_ to do, is submit. Artis nuzzles the shape of the orc’s cock through his smallclothes, but it’s not enough. His lips press against his length, trailing kisses down it until he reaches the bulbous head, mouthing at the fabric-covered tip. 

“Good.” Mogrihm says. Such simple language, and yet it sends fire through Artis’ veins.

The half-elf tugs at the waistline of Mogrihm’s smallclothes, desperate to be rid of them. The orc seems to be in no hurry to aid his efforts, leaving him to his struggle. Bit by bit he coaxes the fabric down Mogrihm’s toned thighs. He still has the presence of mind to feel a rush of shame when Mogrihm’s cock spills out of the garment, but the shame is only backed by a darker emotion, one of need and thrill. 

Artis forsakes the length of Mogrihm’s dick in favor of his heavy sac. The act of merely lifting them causes his clit to throb - in contrast to Mogrihm, who is only showing the barest signs of interest at Artis’ display. Artis, determined, leans into the orc’s lap, a hand gently massaging one of his balls while his mouth descends upon the other. The flesh is hot in his mouth, resting heavy on his tongue as he suckles. The sac is too big to swallow entirely, but Artis is tireless in his devotion, careful to give both sides equal attention.

Through his ministrations, Mogrihm’s cock has started to plump up where it rests on Artis’ face. Though not fully hard, Artis can’t contain himself. He takes the cock in hand - struggling a little, as his fingertips barely meet around the girth - and strokes up and down. Artis presses the tip of Mogrihm’s cock to his lips, kissing it like he would the orc, with such an intensity that he hardly remembers to breathe. A moment passes, and Artis pulls back from it lightheaded and panting, the head shining with Artis’ saliva, connected to his lip by a thread. 

“I love you,” Artis confesses breathlessly, caught up in the moment. 

But he’s not one to delay. His strokes slow down as the lifts Mogrihm’s cock back to his mouth, opening wide as he begins to sink down his length. He breathes deeply as he inches down, almost grateful that Mogrihm still isn’t _fully_ hard, even if it’s a little insulting. The process is a long one, due to the sheer length of the orc. Perhaps a third of the way down, Artis pauses just to suck on him, teasing his cock with his tongue, knowing that it’s soon to enter into his throat. He bobs his head up and down with relative ease, giving soft little grunts of effort. Mogrihm, to his credit, puts up with this longer than Artis expects. A long moment passes before Mogrihm taps his crown, signalling the little half-elf to get on with it. 

Taking the rest of the orc’s cock is not nearly as simple. The oxygen grows thinner and thinner, and as he looks up to gauge Mogrihm’s state, is disappointed when the table blocks his view. He groans softly, the tip of his cock sliding into his throat, muffled by the flesh. Soon, all he can see is Mogrihm’s deep green skin. His lips wrap snugly around the base of his cock, and Artis takes a moment to draw in what little thin breaths he can manage through his nose. Encouraged by his accomplishment of taking it all, Artis pulls back on the thick cock, intent to make his orc cum - Mogrihm, however, seems to have different plans.

His hand falls again on Artis’ head, pushing him back down to the base of his cock, lips sealing firmly against his navel. Effectively trapped, Artis is unable to even make noise from his position. The air he draws in is very thin, what with his windpipe almost completely overtaken by orc cock. 

“Stay,” Mogrihm commands. His fingertips brush against Artis’ curls idly. 

Dizzy and intoxicated, he suckles the length and swallows around it eagerly. His hips buck when his airflow is cut off, clit throbbing, desperate to be stroked. He groans around Mogrihm’s cock in response, incapable of removing his hands from the orc’s thighs in order to jack himself off, lest he be completely choked.

The minutes pass, and Artis slowly starts to lose his strength. He begins to sink from his laborious, straining position, and relax into Mogrihm’s lap. His aching knees sing with relief as he shifts the weight to his thighs, getting more comfortable on the floor. Artis’ hands slip from Mogrihm’s thighs to hold onto his calves, fingers gently tracing the carved muscle.

Those same thighs start to close around Artis’ head, surprising the half-elf. He tries to pull away from Mogrihm’s lap at first, only to be held close by the orc’s steadfast hand. Breathing heavily, he only relaxes when the orc settles his thighs on his shoulders - though slightly uncomfortable as they press against his ears, muffling his hearing. Mogrihm’s hand soon abandons its position on Artis’ head, the half-elf being held securely in place, and he is left in the dark with just Mogrihm’s lower half for company.

The whole experience is heady, much too erotic for Artis to overcome. His hand pulls away from Mogrihm’s calf, sliding under the waistband of his trousers. His clit is erect and twitching against the fabric of his underclothes, soaked in sweat and his arousal. He rubs the sensitive length, hips twitching uncontrollably upward. He sucks on Mogrihm’s cock with what little leverage he has, fingers working furiously. 

Artis already feels so close from just the barest of touches. He’s sure the noises he’s making on Mogrihm’s cock are pleasurable too, from the twitches he feels in his throat. He continues to tease his clit, rubbing it in feather-light circles and then suddenly bearing down so that he might grind against his hand. Mogrihm’s thighs squeeze around his head just a little, whipping Artis up into such a frenzy that his orgasm sneaks up on him. He cums fast and hard on his fingers, legs curling over one another to trap his hand while he rides it out.

Dazed from his orgasm, he barely notices when Mogrihm’s thighs part once again and his hand comes to rest back on his head. He does notice, however, when the hand pulls his head back. His eyes widen as he’s pulled all the way to the tip of Mogrihm’s cock. He sucks and tongues the head as best he can, only to have the wind knocked out of him as he’s forced back down to the base. Left with barely any strength, Artis can do little more than Mogrihm use his mouth and throat like a cocksleeve, eyes rolling back into his head. The half-elf is jerked up and down Mogrihm’s spit-slick length for an eternity, until the orc decides he’s had enough, and ramps up the pace. Just when Artis is sure that his voice has been taken entirely out of commission for the next three days, minimum, Mogrihm holds him back down at the base of his cock. 

His lips seal around the base once again as Mogrihm’s cum spills down his throat, liquid heat pouring straight into Artis’ belly. He swallows as quick as he can, a hand raising to roll the orc’s heavy balls, milking his cum for all it’s worth. He stays there, obedient, until Mogrihm’s cock stops twitching and spurting in his mouth. When he does pull off of the cock, all he can do is lean against the orc’s thigh and catch his breath, rubbing his abused throat. 

Nevertheless, he presses a few loving kisses to Mogrihm’s softening cock and heavy balls as he recovers. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to inbox me ideas.


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